Gardiner, October 19, 1914. Here in my sister’s house they do not feel the war quite as we do, and the gloom is not quite so intense as in our own house, and yet the news, of course, is the thing of the day, but after it is read the day’s work is taken up quite firmly. The girls are all knitting socks for the soldiers. The idle hands of many American women, I trust, will grow as tirelessly useful as the hands of the German women! A telegram from the Progressive National Service, asking me to speak for Gifford Pinchot in his campaign for senatorship in Pennsylvania. I am more interested in relief work. The whole political world seems to be overclouded and obscured by Europe’s horror; we somehow feel that our fate, too, is bound up in the great struggle. * * * * * Gardiner, October 22, 1914. Harriet Blaine Beal came down for tea, delightful as ever. I had bought a nice pair of aluminum needles. She set up my first muffler for the British Relief. The war news continues indefinite. General John Richards to dine. He is wonderfully rejuvenated by the war that has so sadly cast down most of us. His old stories of the Civil War are again rubbed up and thrill us as all real war stories do. We were reminded of his military skill and the part he played as Adjutant General of the State of Maine at the time of the Spanish War, when his Maine militia were the best equipped men who appeared in response to the call to arms. The fact that we all looked up to him as a military authority helped to animate what has seemed of late a very much diminished vitality. It’s an ill wind! * * * * * November 1, 1914. To Providence to speak before the People’s Forum on the report of the Voters’ League, a very valuable document, non-partisan in character, giving the political history of every candidate for election in the State, and all the measures he has stood for or opposed. I never was in such a bear-pit before. After my forty minutes’ speech, which they had the patience to listen to, I was asked many questions; and afterwards the members made five-minute speeches. Most of the speakers were socialists, the others anarchists or cranks. One demagogue, a cockney Englishman, spoke very well as far as force and fluency goes, but his doctrines were poisonous. He contended that organized capital had no end save the exploitation of the workers. The spirit revealed was dour, bitter, and most distressing. Hatred seemed the dominant note. I have not often been so depressed. The atmosphere of passionate discontent appalled me. I have read of such things, but have never before actually felt the atmosphere of angry hatred and distrust. * * * * *